Phoenix Rising
by Bad Faery
Summary: Villains from children's stories did not simply show up at respectable London balls."  HookWendy
1. Default Chapter

"Then he threw down his sword, snatched up the princess, and promised to spend the rest of his life defending her. And they lived happily ever after."   
  
Wendy opened her eyes with a smile to take in Jack's delighted expression. "I knew it!" he crowed, "I knew he'd rescue her!"   
  
"You're very smart," Wendy agreed, tucking the bed clothes more closely around him.   
  
"Tell another one, Aunt Wendy," the boy pleaded. "It's not so very late, is it?"   
  
Wendy removed the boy's eyeglasses with practiced care. At times like these, he looked so much like his father that she could almost believe herself back in the nursery. "It is very late," she said softly. "Your mama and papa will not thank me for keeping you up so far past your bedtime."   
  
Jack pouted until she handed him his teddy bear, looking so disappointed that Wendy relented. "But I'll come back tomorrow and tell you all about the pirates that they met during their honeymoon voyage."   
  
"Pirates!" Wendy placed a hand squarely on Jack's chest to keep him from leaping out of bed.   
  
"Pirates," she replied. "But only if you are a good boy and go straight to sleep now."   
  
The boy screwed his eyes shut and, with great concentration, pretended to be fast asleep. Wendy smiled fondly and placed a kiss on his forehead before making her way quietly out of the nursery. As she walked down the stairs, her brother's voice called to her, "What was it tonight, Wendy? Indians? Magicians?"   
  
"A sword-fighting merchant's son and a princess." Wendy leaned over the banister to look down at the bearded face of her younger brother. "They lived happily ever after."   
  
John chuckled, "A sword-fighting merchant... Wendy, I don't know how you do it."   
  
"Merchant's son," she murmured, then finished her descent. "Surely, you can manage a story or two yourself, John."   
  
"Me?" John laughed. "Hardly. Jack sometimes clamors for a story from my youth, but I can remember none. It's a shame that we did nothing exciting in childhood that would divert him."   
  
Wendy had heard similar complaints so often that she barely reacted. She'd gone beyond wondering why none of the boys remembered their adventures in Neverland. "Yes, you were a rather dull youth," she teased her younger brother.   
  
Feigning injury, John protested, "Dull youth? I was the brightest in my class, I'll have you know!"   
  
"It was the glasses; they fooled everyone," Wendy laughed.   
  
John smiled ruefully, "Perhaps, dear sister, perhaps. I wish I did know a story or two for Jack. Your talent is unique."   
  
"Perhaps it is a gift from God."   
  
"Certainly a gift from somewhere, as you didn't get it from mother and father, nor did Michael and I." He shook his head, dismissing the subject. "Have you heard the news?"   
  
"News?" She hadn't, of course. She rarely heard anything that related to the modern London world. Wendy preferred the news that came to her through her books and imaginings over anything that might happen in real life. Her parents despaired of her, and blamed her bookish tendencies for her spinster status.   
  
"The Phoenix has returned to port." At her puzzled expression, John continued with exasperated affection. "Wendy, do you follow nothing? The Phoenix has been missing for almost two decades and was thought lost at sea. The return is nothing short of a miracle. The captain and crew are sure to be the toast of society when they arrive in London."   
  
Wendy's mind raced, 'A ship lost at sea... they were caught in a hurricane and washed ashore on a deserted island where they were held prisoner by cannibals... The captain amazed them with magic tricks that he taught himself to wile away the long hours of dullness between adventures, and the cannibals thought him a god and were afraid to harm him or his crew... It took years for him to learn enough of their language to explain their predicament and persuade the natives to help rebuild the ship but once he did...'   
  
"Wendy!" John's voice cut through her fantasy. "Wendy, are you all right?"   
  
"Hmmm?" She blinked, startled, and ducked her head. "Yes, I'm all right. Just tired, I suppose."   
  
John's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. "There a cab waiting to take you home whenever you're ready."   
  
"Yes, thank you, John." Wendy allowed her brother to help her into her wrap. "Good night."   
  
"Good night, Wendy."   
  
Wendy leaned back, enjoying the clattering noise of the horse's hooves on the short drive. 'Once the captain persuaded them, the natives revealed themselves to be master shipbuilders. They disassembled the entire ship and put it back together, safer, faster, and more water tight than the crew had ever dreamed possible...'  
  
The clattering stopped as the hansom came to a halt in front of Wendy's parents' home. Wendy stepped from the cab into the cool night air, still lost in her daydreams about the ship's heroic captain and crew. For the first time in years, she wished that she was still a part of London society. Once she had been welcome in the whirl of parties and balls, but her strange habits and manner of speaking had gradually isolated her. She'd turned down suitors for not fulfilling her remembered image of sandy hair and mischievous green eyes until they had eventually stopped calling at all. London society had no place for an old maid, particularly one as prone to flights of fancy as Wendy was.  
  
As she climbed the staircase to her bedroom, Wendy overheard a disagreement between her father and mother. She shook her head wryly, noting how little things had really changed since her return from Neverland and then paused when she heard her own name.   
  
"...but he asked for Wendy specifically," her father protested.   
  
"He's an old man. He remembers her as the young lady she was years ago, he doesn't realize..." her mother's voice trailed off. Wendy flinched as she realized what her mother was referring to.  
  
"Twenty-eight is hardly ancient."   
  
"She should have been married at twenty-two!" Her mother's voice took on a shrill note. "Even twenty-four, but now... She had prospects then, but you wouldn't be strict with her."   
  
Now her father sounded annoyed. "She didn't care for any of them." A faint smile crossed Wendy's face.'Dear father...' He had so wanted her to find someone that she could truly love. He wasn't content to simply marry her off to the first man who came calling.  
  
"It doesn't matter!" Her mother paused and then continued in a placating tone, "Not every woman can be as lucky as I was. In time, she would have learned to care."   
  
Her father sighed. "Maybe this invitation..." Wendy's ears pricked up at this. An invitation? For her? To what?   
  
"It will not make a difference," her mother said firmly. "She's too old to be courted now. She should not go."  
  
"It's never too late to hope. The Phoenix has been missing for nearly twenty years. We don't know what to expect." Wendy sat down heavily on the steps, her eyes alight with excitement. The Phoenix? She would get to meet the heroic captain and crew of the Phoenix. Her mother's stringent voice cut off her fantasy before it could begin.  
  
"She'll be a laughingstock!"   
  
An ugly silence followed her mother's outburst. Tears started in Wendy's eyes. A laughingstock... An old maid dressed to outdo women ten years her junior. An old maid still searching for a husband. An old maid...  
  
Finally, Mr. Darling spoke in a measured tone. "Mr. Oliver asked for her by name. Wendy will go to the ball. You will find something appropriate for her to wear and make sure that she is introduced to the correct people. You will not mention this discussion to her."  
  
With that declaration, the argument was concluded. Wendy scrambled to her feet and made her way shakily to her bedroom, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping. She undressed hurriedly, uncharacteristically leaving her dress lying on the floor of her bedroom, and climbed into bed, burying her face in the cool side of her pillow. Imagining herself at the ball brought fresh tears to her eyes. An old maid decked in ribbons, the younger girls laughing at her behind their fans, the smiles on the faces of the older people at her desperate attempts to land a husband, now that her good years were far behind her, an old maid...  
  
An old maid.   
  
She'd grown up in spite of herself. She'd rather enjoyed it at first, despite the vague feeling that she was being disloyal to Peter. She'd liked the dancing and fine dresses, the love letters. Those things had not lasted. She'd returned to her childhood bedroom and habit of telling stories, but the knock on her window never came. She was forgotten now. By everyone.   
  
"Happy thoughts, Wendy-bird," she whispered aloud to herself. "Think happy thoughts."   
  
Reaching behind her, she flipped the damp pillow over, resting her head once again on the cool side. She closed her eyes and forced her image of the ball to alter, focusing on the brave captain of the Phoenix. He would be tall, she decided, muscular, but not overwhelming, with strong hands. His mischievous green eyes would take in the simpering young girls jostling each other for his attention and dismiss them at once. He would pace the room with a look of amused disinterest until his gaze lighted on Wendy. Then his lips would quirk into a smile with no thought of impropriety. He would bow low before her and kiss her hand without even waiting for an introduction.  
  
Wendy wriggled happily as the scene played itself out behind her closed eyelids. It didn't have to be so bad, she reminded herself. And if her fantasy captain just happened to be the mirror image of a grown up Peter Pan, then what of it? They were only daydreams after all. 


	2. Chapter Two

The day of the ball dawned cold and clear. Wendy was awake before dawn, ashamed of herself for being so impatient. 'Nothing is going to change,' she reminded herself firmly. However her traitorous heart was not easily subdued. A fluttering feeling in the pit of her stomach insisted that after today her life would never be the same.   
  
She spent the morning engaged in her normal leisure pursuits, but her sewing and books could not distract her today. When her mother came to supervise her bathing and cosmetic preparations, Wendy was grateful for the once-hated rituals. The near-scientific process of making certain that her hair was pinned up in the most becoming style was at least diverting.   
  
At first she felt awkward in the heavy blue silk and lace gown. It had been many years since she'd worn anything so formal. She fidgeted slightly, quelling her movements under her mother's disapproving eye. Standing up straighter, she waited for the final judgment.   
  
Mrs. Darling examined her daughter carefully, slowly circling her to take in Wendy's appearance from all sides. At last, she halted in front of her daughter and pronounced, "No one shall ever guess your age."  
  
Wendy supposed that was all the praise she would receive from her mother. Taking one last look at herself in her mirror, she left her bedroom and went to join her father in the hallway below.   
  
As Wendy descended the stairs, Mr. Darling looked up and caught his breath. At his daughter's curious look, he cleared his throat. "You look... very fetching, dear."   
  
"Thank you, Father," Wendy murmured politely, reaching for her wrap. As she did so, her father caught her arm.   
  
Mr. Darling looked around carefully and then leaned close to Wendy. Into her ear, he whispered, "You have never been aware of how very pretty you are. For many years, you have been the true beauty of this family, and tonight, you look exquisite."   
  
He straightened then, adjusting his tie as his wife came downstairs to join them. Wendy could only stammer for a few moments, before managing to repeat, "Thank you, Father."   
  
Mrs. Darling looked over the pair of them critically, before nodding her head in approval. At that signal, the family left their home for the waiting coach that would take them to the ball. Once inside, Mrs. Darling informed Wendy, "Remember, dear, life at sea can be very difficult."   
  
Wendy nodded, mystified.   
  
"It can lead to certain... ailments," Mrs. Darling continued delicately. "I trust that you will remember your manners and not surrender to one of your daydreams."   
  
Wendy leaned forward, hoping that she was about to learn something new about the Phoenix's crew. Try as she might, over the past two weeks she'd been unable to learn anything beyond the fact that they had arrived in London. Any mention of their appearance or behaviors had been kept from her ears. Her parents had not discussed the matter within her hearing; John had been as curious as she, and Michael was out of the city on business and therefore, missing the entire thing. Beyond that group, Wendy had no other means of gathering information. She was nearly wild with curiosity, hoping to learn some detail of the strange, twenty-year absence.  
  
Her mother nodded slightly, confident that her message had been understood, and leaned back, clearly finished with the conversation. Wendy slumped against her seat in frustration, longing to know what her mother was talking about, but knowing better than to be thought rude by asking. She bit her lip, restraining herself. 'I will see for myself soon enough,' she thought firmly.   
  
She was to be disappointed when she arrived at the ball. The captain and crew of the Phoenix were nowhere in sight, only a sea of well-dressed young women, all pulling themselves to attention at any movement near the entranceway. Mr. Darling steered her through the room, introducing her to a number of his bank associates and their daughters. Wendy held her head high, glancing to the sides occasionally to see if anyone was laughing at her. To her surprise, all attention was focused on making certain that the young ladies were prepared to meet the ship's crew, leaving none for the spinster who was joining their ranks.   
  
Wendy was deep in conversation with Mr. Applegate, a friend of her father's who was familiar with Jules Verne, when a hush fell over the room. Slowly she drew in her breath and released it, then turned to face the mysterious crew of the Phoenix.   
  
To a man, they were lean with dark tans. Their impeccable blue uniforms were modestly cut, merely hinting at the strength underneath. Wendy stared as covertly as she could, a bit disappointed. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but it seemed wrong that they looked so unassuming. There should be some mark on them that signaled that they'd been through grand adventures. Instead, they looked like average, middle-aged seamen. She sighed softly, not willing to give up all hope. Her eyes darted from one man to the next, searching out the one that would stand apart. Where was the captain?   
  
A flurry of whispers drew her gaze to her right, where, in a group of people, she caught sight of a man who looked little like her imaginings, but was devastatingly attractive despite that. The captain was tall and muscular, but with long black hair tied back into a ponytail and arctic eyes. Wendy's breath caught as she looked upon the imposing stranger. 'I know you,' she thought. 'I know you, but how?'  
  
The crowd around the captain cleared a bit, giving Wendy a chance to look upon his form for the first time. She trailed her gaze over his broad shoulders and down his arms to his strong hands. Hand. His left arm ended in a strong hand. His right arm... His right arm was capped by a silver hook.  
  
The world swam sickeningly around Wendy, who wavered for a moment, nearly swooning. She sunk her tongue viciously into her tongue, the sharp pain allowing her to focus. 'Wendy Darling you are no simpering girl. You will not faint.' With an effort, she regained control of herself although her thoughts still whirled madly.  
  
'It can't be him. It can't be. How could he be here? I'm imagining things. I'm going mad...'  
  
Hesitantly, she snuck another look over at the captain. No, she would not think of him as Captain Hook. Villains from children's stories did not simply show up at respectable London balls. It was some kind of coincidence. As her mother had reminded her, life at sea was dangerous. Certainly, many men had lost a leg or hand to it before. As for his face... Her visit to Neverland had been seventeen years ago. She could not possibly remember a man's face clearly after so long a time.  
  
Her intellect assuaged, although her heart continued to beat frantically, Wendy returned her attention to Mr. Applegate's monologue on the virtues of Verne over Wells. As he rambled to a halt, Wendy opened her mouth to politely disagree with his assessment of H.G. Wells as a 'no-talent hack whose insane convictions are no doubt fueled by overindulgence in spirits, excuse me Miss Wendy,' when her companion's eyes shifted to focus on something behind her left shoulder.  
  
"Ah, Captain Hembrow, good of you to join us."   
  
Wendy froze, sensing the commanding presence just behind her. Forcing herself to maintain her composure, she turned, curtseying politely to the Phoenix's captain, who bowed low before her.   
  
"Miss Wendy Darling, I believe." His voice was strong and certain, making it clear that he knew exactly who she was. It was a voice accustomed to being obeyed, and Wendy found herself nodding before she thought to be surprised.  
  
"You are indeed correct, Captain," Mr. Applegate beamed. "Miss Wendy, may I have the honor of presenting Captain James Hembrow."  
  
"Captain Hembrow," Wendy murmured in greeting. She glanced up at the captain, his image blurring for a moment with one of a man clad in regal red and gold, the similarity striking. And he knew her name. 'It's not possible...' She would not allow herself to look at the hook.  
  
The captain's lips quirked in a small smile. "I found myself speaking to your father earlier, and troubled him for your name," he replied in answer to the question she had not asked.   
  
His explanation was perfectly appropriate and completely plausible, except... Except. Wendy inclined her head, indicating her understanding, even though she privately withheld her belief.  
  
"Might I request the very great pleasure of dancing with you tonight, Miss Darling?" Wendy flushed at the captain's intense gaze. His impossibly blue eyes were fixed on her alone, and for a moment the chatter of the ballroom seemed to vanish, leaving only the two of them in the room.  
  
"I would be honored to be your partner," she replied, realizing as she spoke that the words were true. Captain James Hembrow was an extraordinary-looking man, and a small, unabashedly feminine part of her was fiercely proud that he had singled her out. She proffered her dance card, allowing the captain to claim any dance he chose.  
  
"You must tell the rest of us your secret, Captain," Mr. Applegate said merrily as the captain perused her dance card, bracing it against his right arm in order to sign his name. "I would that I were half so fortunate as you.  
  
At Wendy's curious look, Mr. Applegate explained, "I remember seeing pictures of our dear captain in the newspapers after the Phoenix was thought lost. Now that I look on him here, he seems to have scarcely aged a day. I wish I could claim the same luck."  
  
The captain smiled wryly as he handed the dance card back to Wendy. "I've yet to see a newspaper photograph that flattered its subject. If I had resembled mine at the time, I would have had cause to wish myself lost. If you'll excuse me."  
  
Without another word, the captain vanished into the crowd, leaving Wendy staring avidly behind him. A silver hook, a familiar face, a man who did not age... All easily explainable on their own, but when combined they painted a far different picture.  
  
Hook. Wendy shook her head impatiently. She was behaving like a silly schoolgirl and directly disobeying her mother's command that she not lose herself in daydreams. Captain Hembrow could not possibly be Captain Hook. Even if there was a way for Hook to escape Neverland, he was dead. She had watching him be eaten by the crocodile. No man could survive that.  
  
Thus satisfied, Wendy glanced down at her dance card, flushing a brilliant scarlet when she realized that the captain had claimed not one dance, but three. 


End file.
